If You Never Got Sick
by calicoskies4ever
Summary: Lex isn't feeling well and someone needs to take care of him. It's not who you would think. LexLionel slash, and mentions of LionelJonathan and ClarkLex. Rated T just in case.
1. Chapter 1

Alternate universe where Lex can and does get sick. Now he needs somebody to take care of him. Lex/Lionel slash with brief mentions of Lex/Clark and Lionel/Jonathan as well. Takes place during season three before _Shattered_.

"That ain't a parachute. That ain't a rip cord. That ain't a body of water we're headed for. There's so little time left, so much to be done. Even you are gonna need someone. That ain't a trick of light, or the morning haze, coming in from the lake, getting into your eyes. It's the invisible breath, of a storm on the rise that I feel whenever you arrive. Now I may not be quick, maybe never was, but tell me what the hell it is that you've become.

Baby if you never got sick, I wouldn't get to hold you. Baby if you never got sick, I would never get to hold you," Jacob Dylan

"He's my son."

"He's my boyfriend."

"I was his first."

"I'm his most recent."

"I give him everything he needs, and anything he ever wants, whatever he asks for, anyway."

"I give him love." Lionel lowered his eyes, leading the Kent boy out into the hallway. He glared angrily and the flannel clad corn fed hick. He had never approved of Lex and Clark's relationship, and everyone knew it. Lionel Luthor and Jonathan Kent had known that their moving in together might have had this effect on the boys, but nothing could stand in the way of their 'love' or so they said.

"How dare you insinuate such a thing," Lionel shouted fuming. Clark's words had been like a slap in the face. He was about to storm off. _Of course I love Lex; I have always loved him_, _more than you could possibly know_. Then Lex's eyes fluttered open slowly, as though he were waking from a nap and not—something else.

"Dad?" the younger Luthor moaned, looking around his room. Ugly gray and pink curtain, surrounding a lumpy upright mattress with guardrails on either side, an airplane pillow under his head, a needle and tubing sticking out of the inside of his left elbow, the sound of water dripping down from above him in little droplets, rubber-soled shoes squeaking against the tile in the hall, ammonia stench and a mask over his mouth and nose, blowing fresh, clean oxygen into his lungs—I'm in a hospital, Lex thought. _Shit_.

Two months earlier he had begun to find it difficult climbing the stairs in the mansion. He was constantly wheezing, even Lionel had pointed it out, once. Sometimes his chest felt tight, and once in a while he felt as if he were trying to breathe with a plastic bag tied tightly over his head.

Lex knew immediately what was wrong with him, and yet he continued to ignore the problem. One day he called Toby, because at least _he_ wouldn't tell Lionel about Lex's problem. Toby had given him a couple of inhalers, one for daily use, two for emergencies.

He started taking the medication, but hid everything, and is attacks became less frequent, more easily controlled. Lex didn't even tell Clark he was sick until he had an attack while the two of them where making love. Other than that, nobody knew, not until Lex had been at a Luthorcorp board meeting, with his father on the morning of May 26th, 2003.

One of the lower downs, a short dumpy man with a bad comb over and think glasses—Lex did not know his name—was giving a presentation, but Lex couldn't concentrate on that. He could still breathe, although not well. Lex actually felt his lungs starting to close off, and there was nothing he could do about it. His ordinary medicine was in Smallville, and one of the emergency inhalers was in a locked drawer in his office. Lex sat back in his chair, trying to take in deep breaths, trying to keep himself relaxed.

_Breathe_; he tried to order his body. Nothing worked. It was no use—Lex felt dizzy. The room was dizzy, and he hadn't been able to breathe normally for more than twenty minutes. Then everything went black, and he fell to the ground. Just before he passed out, he heard his father calling his name, but the voice was all wrong. It sounded kind, concerned. The next time he opened his eyes he was in the hospital.

"Dad," he called, weakly, pulling the mask off of his face, as things slowly came back into focus. His father was in the hall, right next to Clark Kent. Lionel raced to his son's side, touching the pale hand softly, patting it. He hated seeing his son sick, and in pain. He hated o think of Lex as vulnerable. At the same time, he felt a slight sense of smug satisfaction, in Lex's having picked him over Clark.

He _had_ won after all. Lex wanting his father back couldn't have come at a better time. The past few months both of the Kents had become increasingly disinterested in the Luthors. It was only a matter of time before things ended and now he had an excuse to break up with Lionel. "You should have told me," Lionel said flatly, as he sat down, an emotionless mask washing over his face. "Or at least kept your inhaler in a place where you could get to it when it was needed. Lex you know how serious of a problem _your _asthma can be, why would you do something as stupid a not taking your medicine?"

"I was taking it. I just kept the inhaler in my office, where you wouldn't see it." Even at his worst Lex had a flair for sardonic comebacks. "…didn't want you to know." Of the few things Lex could say, which would bother Lionel in any way, this was the only one that could—and did—hurt him.

"You thought I'd kick you to the curb because you're not in perfect health? Lex, you had asthma for most of your childhood. You'll be fine, if you just take your medicine, nothing is going to change. I give you my word."

"Your word is about as much as—let's just say I don't exactly trust you. "Lionel took the oxygen mask from his son's hand, replacing it on his face. Lex pushed it away. "You treated me differently when I was sick. Things got slightly better after I wasn't sick anymore, but the bald thing always weirded you out, so we weren't great. It's not coming back this time, by the way."

"Lex, put the mask on, or I'll get the doctor to come in and put you in restraints," Lionel ordered, once again, pressing the mask against his son's face, this time pushing down firmly.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Lex said, into the mask, but didn't fight back. He knew he couldn't win anything in a battle with his father, and he needed the oxygen, which made this particular argument all the more futile.

"When you were little, your mother used to worry, more than she needed too, and even though she never told you that, you were a bright child, intuitive. You must have picked up on her apprehension, and in order to please her, you behaved cautiously. You allowed your fears to get the better of you, because you knew you might get hurt. I wasn't disappointed in you for having an illness, but for the way you allowed the disease to take control of your life."

Lex couldn't help but notice how his father had continently left out he issues of his hairlessness. He could also see that Clark was still standing in front of the room, looking at the floor, but once in a while lifting his eyes to check on Lex.

"Clark, you can come in now. I think my father and I are going to take a small break," Lex said, first removing and then replacing he mask, and trying the find a more comfortable position on the lumpy mattress. Just as hi father started to walk away, Lex reached out with one hand, grabbing his father's arm. "I wanna sleep at home tonight, with you," Lionel nodded, walking off to make the arrangements. Clark sat in the same chair as Lionel, but only put his body on the edge of the seat.

"Your dad told my dad that he wasn't gonna be at dinner tonight because you were here and my dad came to see me, 'cuz he thought your dad was just blowing him off, except that nobody had bothered to tell me anything. So I only even found out you were sick when my father demanded to know whether or not you were in the hospital."

"Sorry. I would have called you, but I was unconscious until about fifteen minutes ago, and I guess my father didn't consider you a priority. But, uh, Clark, I think we need to talk. I love you, I do, and we've been through a lot together, which makes this all the more difficult for me to say, but I don't think—."

"You're dumping me?"

"I'm only saying what you've been working up the courage to tell me for the past month, except you were scared too because I'm sick. We've had some good times together, and I know that you're probably never going to want to speak to me again, but if you do, I'd love it if we can still be friends." Clark nodded, and admitted to Lex that he too had been thinking it was about time for a break up, but that he still liked him, but didn't love him.

Then he walked down the hall, out of the hospital, and back to the farm house. Jonathan was there as well. He and Lionel had also agreed that it was time to end their relationship. Lionel said he needed to spend more time with Lex to, "help him readjust to his new lifestyle." He also said that Lex was going to need a lot of extra "attention," and "support," and that even if things had not been going downhill already he just didn't think he would have time for anything besides work and "taking care of Lex."

Lionel spoke to his son's doctor and convinced him it would be in everyone's best interest if Lex were to recover at the mansion, and so he was shipped back home, and placed in the bedroom in his private quarters. A nurse was set up outside his door and down the hall a little. When Lionel returned from work, he found Lex lying sprawled out in his bed, sleeping.

The older Luthor removed his own clothing pulling on a pair of dark blue and gold silk pajamas, and joined his son in the king-sized bed. This, unfortunately, did wake Lex up, but he was so happy to see his father he dint care about being woken up at all. Lex lifted his head, looked over at the clock on his bedside table, rubbing his eyes.

"Is there something wrong, Son?" Lionel asked, scooting across the bed, so that he could put his arms around the boy.

"Yeah, it's only six—and you're not only home, but in your pajamas. I feel like I've entered the Twilight Zone, or something. You're never home before 9:00 PM and I know that for a fact, because we work together. You don't like to come home early when you get a full days work done, not to mention the fact that you missed half a day when you had to take me to the hospital, because I've been happening like an idiot lately."

"You are a lot of things, Lex, but an idiot is not one of them."

"Yeah, so what would you call a person with asthma not taking their medication?" Lex asked sarcastically. Then, despite the fact that they were arguing, he accepted his father's arms around his midsection, leaning forward and placing his head and chest up against Lionel's body.

"Your behavior lately shows a great deal of carelessness, and poor planning, however, I also can understand your reasoning. I know why you did what you did. Ow, that being said, I need you to promise me something. If you have any more problems, health related or otherwise, I want you to come to me." Normally Lex would have laughed at such a suggestion. Then he would have screamed and started a huge argument, but he was tired of fighting with his father,

Lex just wanted Lionel to hold him, and to allow himself to drop the brave act. He wanted some time to be weak, without any consequences. After he had been laying there for what seemed like hours, but probably hadn't been more than twenty minutes or so, Lex sat up suddenly, staring at his father, finding himself angry, yet again.

"You never answered my question before," Lex said in an accusatory voice. Lionel looked down at his son, confused. "Why are you here? I mean, why did you come home so early? Don't you have work stuff to do? Especially since you were gone for all that time when you were—when you came to visit me. Aren't you going to be behind? How are you not worried about that?"

"Luthorcorp is _my_ company. Other than you, no one in the world has tried to take it from me, at least not any person I wan't able to squash like a bug. As far as my workload, that's the great thing about being the boss. Your employees will down pretty much anything you ask of them. My son needs me a lot more than that paperwork ever will. So lie down, kiddo, rest, relax, and if you need anything, you tell me and I'll get it. Would you like something to eat?"

"I'm not really hungry. They gave me something at the hospital—I'm not sure what it was but it knocked me out and killed my appetite," Lex explained quietly, as he sat up, reaching under the bed. He pulled out a small box like object, with a few dials on it, and a hose coming out of the side. The hose was attached to a mask on the other end.

"You need to do that again, huh?" Lionel took the machine in his hand, turning it over and over in his hands. "The first time we tried to do this for you, you cried so hard, I had to hold you in my lap with my arm around your chest, and to keep you from running away. The second day, I was sitting on the couch, reading the paper after work one night, and you walked up to me, dragging one of these things behind you. Then you climbed up into my lap, and said, "Daddy, it's time for you to hold me and give me my medicine." And that became our routine. This one time I went to China for business, and your mother had to cal me out of a meeting so I could talk you through it."

"So I was a huge brat as a kid after all, huh?"

"No, you depended on me, and I let you down. You know something, Lex; I discovered that you could read durring one of those treatments. I used to take the paper with me, when we did our treatments together and I held it up, so we could both see it together, and I held it up so we could both see the paper. One day you pulled off your mask, and asked me what the word precipitation meant. So I asked where you had heard that word, and you pointed to it on the page. After that I asked you to read me a whole paragraph, which you did perfectly."

"How old was I?"

"Three—no...Well you were almost three, it was right before your birthday third birthday. I think it was May, not June."

"That's impossible. Kids can't read at that age. Their brains aren't ready, they need to develop more. Did you ever actually do any of that or did you just make the whole story up so you'd sound like a better father.

"You read when you were three, a real newspaper, kid's books, books for high school students, anything you wanted. You _are_ that smart, and I love that about you." Lionel turned the machine on, gently pressing the mask over Lex's mouth, holding it in place until Lex got it secured. Then the younger Luthor lay himself back down in Lionel's arms and smiled.

"Have you got the paper?" Lex asked, looking up into his father's eyes happily. Lionel nodded, slowly laying Lex down on the bed to get the paper from his briefcase, downstairs in the dining room. "No," Lex called out. "Stay with me, have someone else get it. Please?"

"You're absolutely right." Lionel sat down, placing his son back in his arms, the way they had done when Lex was a little boy. He smiled too, kissing his son's head, like he used to do. "After all how many chances do you get to hold your adult son in your arms, while he allows himself to be completely vulnerable?"

"Well," Lex told him, loving the feel of his father's heartbeat against his face, and the thumping sound of it in his ears. "I was thinking that maybe we could make this an everyday thing. You and me, taking our med-sin and reading the newspaper together."

"So you do remember, hmm?" Lionel asked, feeling like a good father, for the first time in a long time. If he could do this for Lex, maybe they had a shot at being an actual family, and then maybe they could live happily ever after, reading the paper and taking their med-sin.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: happy endings aren't as easy as you think they might be. Lex and Lionel still have a few issues to work out.

"This ain't a righteous love  
Even a good one  
These ain't the kinds of returns  
That I was thinking of  
I'm unbearable now, you ain't seen nothin yet  
You'll see me dead before you see me quit  
That ain't a jug of wine that you been drinkin from  
Now lay back, now baby and let your fever come  
I'll bury you in just to dig you out  
I don't have any use for being proud  
And the deeper the slide  
The higher the rise  
Now don't be disappointed how I'm usin mine  
Baby if you never got sick  
I wouldn't get to hold you  
Baby if you never got sick  
I wouldn't get to hold you," Jacob Dylan

Lex couldn't help but notice that ever since his father hasd learned about his athsma returning, Lionel had become insanely overprotective. It had been two weeks since Lex's doctor had informed both Lex and Lionel that the younger Luthor was perfectly fit to return to regular exercise, and work, and yet his father insisted he stay home and relax. Lionel, Lex believed, was trying to find a new way to push him out of power, despite many reassurances from his father that this was not true.

"Lex," Lionel had insisted when Lex brought it up one morning. "I know how serious this asthma thing can be. You were a little boy when—the symptoms faded. I know you think you can control it all by yourself, but you need someone to help keep an eye on things. When you get it under control, your old position will still be waiting right where you left it."

"The only reason I got as sick as I did that day at work was because I was scared you'd find out and either do this, or go back to treating me like I was weak and pathetic. So, I didn't keep an inhaler on me, like I'm supposed to, and when my lungs closed up, I couldn't fix it in time," Lex had shouted in frustration. Unfortently between the stress and the screaming, Lex had caused another attack, proving Lionel's point and not his own.

That same night, Lex found his way to his father's home office, and knocked on the door timidly.

"You may come in, Lex, and before you ask whether or not I will allow you to come back to work, why don't you tell me how many asthma attacks you've had today."

"None, well sort of one. If the one I had when we were fighting, and you got me all worked up counts, then just one."

"Lex, Lex," the elder Luthor sighed. He couldn't help but think of his son as the same scared little boy who was in constant pain, and always under attack because of his uncooperative lungs. He didn't want to worry about anything, but he couldn't stop. _A father shouldn't be exposed to daily reminders of his son's mortality._ That was what he told every doctor Lex had visited as a boy. Lionel had tried every treatment, medication, and procedure they could come up with, and none of it seemed to help him.

He wished things were more simple. At least when Lex was a boy he was able to keep a better on him. If Lex were younger, he could hold the boy in hi arms, and say all of the right things to make his sin feel better, until the medication did it's job. Now that Lex was all grwown up, he had virtually no control over what Lex did or didn't do.

Lionel knew how easily his son got bored, and he knew the sort of things Lex did when he was feeling bored, and he knew these things were far more dangerous, and possibly scandalous than allowing him to come back to work. At the same time, however, Lionel wanted to do everthing he could to protect his little boy.

"Lex," he repeated. "I can only imagine how bored you must be sitting home all day, and how much you want to come back to work, but—"

"Dad, I know you're worried about me, but I'm a grown up now, and everything is gonna be okay now."

"You don't know that."

"Even if I didn't have asthma there would always be the possibility that something could happen to me at some time, and I wouldn't be alright, but this—this is different."

"When you were a boy, you were almost always sick. Every time we had to take you to the hospital, which was—far too often, far too many times, not that it was your fault…but every time, your mother cried, and all I could think was that you were too young, too smart, too sweet, too wonderful, too perfcet for the world to lose.

"And I had to be the one to go into that little room, and you usually had one of those amsks on or a tube—and you would look up at me like you were begging for my help—after the—when you got better, I told myself that despite everything else, at least I'd never have to go through that again." Lionel coughed into his fist, unable to express just how painful all of this was for him. Lex sank into large overstuffed chair next to his father's desk.

"Dad, I know you're scared—and you have no idea how good it makes me feel to hear that. It means you love me—and I know you've said the words before. I mean—you hold me in your arms every night during my treatments, telling it to me over and over, but I never—forget it."

"You never what? You figured I was lying to you?" Lionel forced himself to stay calm. There was no sense in losing control, especially when Lex might get hurt. "Lex I have always-"

"You've been saying that ever since—well you've been telling me that since I was a teenager. It's not that I didn't believe you, I'm just," Lex stopped himself, and looked away. Now the truth was going to come out, and when it did his father would never allow him to work at Luthorcorp.

He was a man, and a Luthor, and neither of those groups were supposed to contain people like Lex. Being sensitive may have made women swoon, but for a Luthor, it was an unexceptable personality trait.

"If you're pausing to avoid telling me you are sensitive, Son, you should know I'm more than aware of that fact."

"How could you posibily—?"

"Your mother told me, over and over and over, when you were a little boy and right before—when she was sick she made me promise not to beat it out of you," Lionel explained as he stood up, and sat down on the edge of his son's chair.

"You sure as hell tried to break that promise."

"I know, Lex. I've made a lot of mistakes. I see that now, and I'll most likely need to keep apologizing for the rest of my life. I only hope you will be able to forgive me some day."

"Let me come back to work and I'll forgive you right now," Lex said, and chuckled the way his father had laughed at him so many times before. Lionel placed his hands on Lex's shoulders. "And I can't believe that _I _have to remind _you_ of this, but we haven't had sex in three weeks. Nothing at all in three weeks, three!"

"Well, you may have a point there, but—if you can't get through a simple argument without-"

"Isn't there—let me prove it to you. Do something, anything—like a middle ground—I know, you hate those two words, but-," his voice trailed off. Lionel smiled, and leaned in to kiss the boy. Lex opened his mouth, accepting Loinel's tongue, playing with it, twirling it around and around. When the kiss was broken he opened his eyes. "Why did you stop?"

"You're, all right," Lionel explained, checking his son all over, and then laughing.

"I'm breathing—instead of gasping for air like you expected—and you think it's funny?" Lex tried to remain calm but it was difficult. He hated being made fun of, more spesficicly he hated when Lionel made fun of him.

"No, but Lex, look down son," he said, slowly lowering himself to his knees in front of Lex. "You're the one trying to convince me you want to have sex, and then you don't even notice this?" Lex watched as his father reached out and touched him on the waist, unzipped his pants, and pulled out his hard cock. "What should I do with this hmm? It's yours so I suppose you should get some say. No?"

"Put—it, in your mouth—and…unless you want me to have an attack right now I need you to suck me off, or do something with it, please," he begged, and watched as Lionel gently wrapped his lips around it, looking up into his eyes the whole time.

"Good boy," Lionel said with a smile, as he patted Lex on the thigh, as he stood up.

"Still keep a bottle of mouthwash in your top desk drawer?" Lex panted, and leaned back taking deep breaths.

"There's no need, unless you feel like you can't handle joining me in my room."

"I'm okay, I mean I feel great. Thank you, but I'm a little—are you really doing this, or am I dreaming, or are you jerking me around?"

"Not unless you want me to," the elder Luthor smiled, helping Lex up, and rubbing his shoulders. "Zip your pants son. Do you think you can handle what we're about to do, because—if you're not, I need to know before we get started.

"I'm okay, but…you know that old expression about what you're supposed to do right after falling off of a horse? Well it's not always that easy getting back on."

"If you're even a little afraid, or nervous, just tell me. I'm perfectly happy to hold you in my arms, and nothing else, even if that's all you're up to for—forever."

"Really?" Lex asked, still terrifed his father might leave him again. He knew he couldn't handle things if Lionel walked away from him again, mostly because he knew his father wouldn't come back this time. Lex wanted to please his father no matter what he had to do in order to keep him around.

"I love you, Lex. I let you go once before, but I will not allow that to happen again. I promise," he said, and the two of them walked off hand in hand.


End file.
